


Under the Chenille Blanket: Red Hook 1935

by FrostyEmma



Series: Under the Chenille Blanket [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Bisexual Bucky Barnes, Cunnilingus, Developing Relationship, F/M, First Time Blow Jobs, Fluff and Smut, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Oral Sex, Period Typical Attitudes, Porn with Feelings, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Romantic Friendship, Seduction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-06
Updated: 2016-08-06
Packaged: 2018-07-29 13:28:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7686292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FrostyEmma/pseuds/FrostyEmma
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><em>“Stevie!” Bucky managed to choke out, before his breath caught in his throat, and all he could do was grip the sides of the sink in helpless anticipation. </em><br/> <br/><em>The water continued to flow from the faucet, and Steve was on his knees before Bucky, his warm, wet mouth wrapped around him, and it was too much to even reach out and turn the tap off. </em></p>
<p>Bucky learns a thing or two from the sultry neighbor. He wouldn't be a good friend if he didn't pass that knowledge on.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Under the Chenille Blanket: Red Hook 1935

Red Hook, Brooklyn  
1935

On a cold day in January, while working a long Saturday shift at Mr. Cicalese’s drugstore, Bucky was asked to make a few routine deliveries to the customers around the neighborhood. He never minded doing so; it was good to get out of the store and walk around the block a few times, plus he’d end up with a little extra money in tips, which was always useful.

He looked over the list of customers, making a quick calculation of how much he stood to possibly earn that afternoon. Mothers of young kids always gave the best tips, grateful as they were to not have to drag their brood out into the cold to buy garter belts and cough syrup. Old men tended to be lousy tippers; they were already spending their pennies on cigarettes, and why the hell would they want to give up any more of their hard-earned tin? 

Well, there were more dames on the list than cranky old Joes, so it looked like it would be a good afternoon.

Bucky got through most of the list quickly enough, and pocketed enough in tip money to make it worth it, even taking into account the old man who made him listen to a ten minute war story before coughing up any change. And not a Great War story either; nope, he had a story about something called the Boxer Rebellion all the way out in the Orient, and wasn’t shivering out on the front stoop and listening to all that for a few pennies a fine way to pass the afternoon?

The last name on the list interested Bucky the most: Frances McDowell, in need of cigarettes, baby powder, a bottle of Anacin, and a bottle of Coca-Cola - probably for washing down the Anacin, which always did leave a chalky aftertaste on the tongue.

Good old Frannie McDowell, who just needed a fella to bring her some medicine to chase the headache away. And if she were calling the drugstore for delivery, then her lunker of a Merchant Marine husband was very likely far away on business.

Now wouldn’t that be nice?

Bucky stood outside her third floor apartment, package wrapped in brown paper in one hand and soda bottle tucked under his arm, and rapped on the window of the front door. 

The chain rattled, the door opened, and there stood Frannie McDowell, looking as sultry as a pinup model. Better than a pinup model, clad in a pale green, Oriental-style robe of floral-patterned silk, with draping sleeves and a blue sash carelessly cinched just below her breasts. Her bright red hair was loose around her shoulders, as if she were planning on a decadent, midday bath. 

A genuine smile broke over Bucky’s face. How could a fella not smile in her presence? “Afternoon, ma’am. Delivery from Cicalese’s Drugstore.”

Frannie smiled at him then, her perfect red lips curving upward at the corners and parting to reveal some dazzling pearly whites. “Of course.” She stepped back and gestured. “You just come right in and put that package down right on the table, won’t you?”

The soft sound of some kind of slow, brassy music drifted over to him from a gramophone on the end table in the corner. Behind him, the door closed and the chain slid home as he got his first look inside the McDowell household.

The parlor was hung all over with stuff that had to have come from every corner of the world, probably courtesy of her Merchant Marine husband on his many travels. There were light watercolor paintings of black-haired women in long robes like the one Frannie was wearing. A long blue-and-white sheet covered in swirling patterns hung in the doorway to the kitchen, lazily swinging in the draft. A big carved wooden mask with exaggerated teeth and angry slits for eyes dominated one of the smaller walls. Bucky couldn’t tell where to look first.

The sound of a cigarette lighter snapping got his attention. Frannie brought the tiny flame of a silver lighter to the tip of a cigarette in a long holder. The end of the cig glowed red as she drew in a long puff, and Bucky watched, mesmerized, as she trapped the holder between two of her slender, tapered fingers and blew out a single perfect ring of smoke through her Cupid’s bow lips, pursed as though she were blowing him a kiss.

Well.

Bucky swallowed. “I’ll just leave this here,” he set the package down on the end table by the door, “and be on my way, ma’am.”

“What’s your hurry?” Frannie’s voice was as languid as the look she was giving him. “You run around all day bringing who knows what to God knows who, and when do you stop and catch your breath?” She blew another smoke ring out towards the ceiling, leaning back against the frame of the front door as she did. 

“At night.” He smiled and slid his hands into the pockets of his brown, wool jacket - courtesy of a secondhand sale at the church, and certainly not from any place that could be considered exotic. “Or during the day in school.”

He felt a bit young mentioning that he was still in school at all, but it was the truth. His ma - and even Mr. Cicalese - had pushed very hard for him to stay in school through graduation, instead of leaving after 8th grade to work full-time like he had wanted to and like many guys his age already had. But there he was, in school with a year and a half left to go, and he couldn’t imagine that would have been very interesting to a mature woman of twenty-two like Frannie McDowell.

And yet, Frannie smiled at that, her blue-shadowed eyelids coming down to hood her eyes, and the ember of her cigarette traced a smoky path through the air as she brought the holder to her lips again. “You’re still in school? Most boys would have quit and gone to work on the docks or at the sugar factory by now.” She blew a stream of smoke toward the ceiling, and once again, Bucky found himself fixated on her pert mouth.

“Yeah, well…” Bucky forced himself to look away from her lips, meeting her languid eyes instead. “I run track, so it’s not bad. Something to do.” He shrugged at that, casual-like, as if he weren’t trying to stare at her mouth and every luscious curve below her neck. 

“Something to do?” Frannie held his eyes easily, her eyebrow arching once more. “That’s as good a reason as any, I guess.” She pushed off from the wall, moving towards him with unhasty, sauntering steps, her silk robe rustling gently over the curves of hips as she walked, until she stood just inches away. Her eyes let go of his, drifting slowly down over his chest, his stomach - did they linger for a second on his waist? - down to his legs, and back up again. “You’ve got a runner’s body. Track’s been good to you.”

What else could a guy say to that but a proper thank you? His ma had taught him good manners, after all, and he was no mook.

“Thank you kindly, ma’am.” He couldn’t help himself; the words slipped out of his mouth with a smile before he could think them over. “You’re kind of a doll yourself.” He resisted the urge to let his eyes travel downward, keeping them very firmly fixed on either her eyes or her mouth.

Which was just fine. His imagination could fill in the blanks plenty easily, and he knew exactly how the collar of her silk robe made a tantalizing ‘v’ over the swell of her breasts or how the thin fabric skimmed the curves of her hips and thighs.

No, Bucky didn’t need to look at all.

Frannie laughed at that, a smoky sort of laugh. “A silver-tongued charmer, you are.” She took a step closer. “And good-looking too. Your girl must feel very lucky.”

He looked down into her eyes; she was impossibly close now. “Not so much,” he said softly. “I’m kind of between girls right now.” He decided not to mention that Alice had ended things a few weeks ago because she wanted an older fella, out of high school, with what she called a “real job.”

Well, his not-so-real job had brought him right into Frannie McDowell’s parlor, hadn’t it?

Another step closer, and her breasts would skim against his chest. And yet, he couldn’t find it in himself to take a polite step back. He stayed planted right where he was, looking down into her gorgeous, blue-shadowed eyes and trying not to let his gaze wander to her mouth or even further downward. 

“Is that so?” Her voice seemed to grow breathier, huskier. “Not for long, I’d imagine. The girls are probably falling all over themselves to go with you.”

“That’s not… strictly true.” He ran his tongue over his lips, trying to wet them. Despite the chill in the apartment and his wool jacket, he was beginning to feel very warm. 

And, he reminded himself suddenly, he had probably overstayed his welcome. Mr. Cicalese would be wondering where the hell he had gotten off to in the middle of his shift, after all.

“I need to get going,” he murmured, though he didn’t make any particular moves to leave either. 

She arched an eyebrow at him, then gave him a peculiar sort of smile. “Well, I should give you something for coming out here at least.” She turned, walked unhurriedly to one of the end tables, and bent down to put out her cigarette and pick up her purse. The silk of her robe stretched tight across her firm rear end as she did, and for a long moment, Bucky stood there transfixed. 

“Oh my.” She turned towards him, rummaging through her bag, and looked up after a few moments’ search. “I’m afraid I haven’t got a red cent to give you.”

‘Well, that show there had been quite enough,’ he wanted to say, but of course, Bucky had always been smart enough to know when to keep his mouth shut.

Instead he said, “No problem, ma’am. You have a good day,” and moved toward the front door, turning to say goodbye before he left. 

Frannie leaned down to put her bag onto the other end table, and the top of her robe hung open as she did so. She wasn’t wearing anything underneath it, and for a moment, Bucky could see the tantalizing swell of her soft breasts.

His breath hitched in his throat.

“I ought to give you something,” she breathed as she straightened up and moved towards him again. The smile had returned to her face, but it had a different cast this time. “So we haven’t wasted both our time.”

“My time?” He swallowed, but his throat suddenly felt very dry. He did manage a smile though. “My time hasn’t been wasted. At all.”

“Well then.” She closed the last steps between them and stood directly in front of him, only a paper’s thickness between her body and his. If she breathed in too deeply… “Let’s just make sure of that.”

She brought her body forward suddenly and pressed herself against him, and his hands slid unthinkingly, far too easily, around her waist. 

“What’s your name?” she asked, that sultry smile never flickering. “You know mine; you’ve got an advantage over me.”

“Bucky,” he said, and just barely resisted the urge to pull her tightly against him. The sudden, uncomfortable swelling in his pants might have thanked him, but she wouldn’t necessarily. “And,” he smiled a breathless sort of smile, “I’m not sure I’m the one with the advantage here.”

“You’re smarter than I thought.” She gave him a look that would’ve fried an egg. “I like a boy who’s not afraid to admit he hasn’t got the upper hand.”

She reached up with both hands and put her arms around his neck, looking deep into his eyes and bringing her face close to his. As she did, she pressed her body against his, her breasts flattening against his chest and her waist pressing right against the front of his pants.

“Oh my,” she said as her lips brushed against his. “You’re trembling.”

“I’m having a good day,” he whispered against her perfect mouth. He let his hands slide from her waist to the curve of hips, and just barely resisted sliding them around to cup her rear. “It’s good trembling, I promise.”

“I know.” She brought her lips to his and kissed him. Gently at first, but then greedily. Hungrily. And as she kissed him, her fingers began to wind their way into his hair, twisting into the curls and ringlets they found, and pulling him in.

It was a long time before she set him free from that kiss. But when she did, she looked up at him with smoldering eyes and smeared lipstick. Which meant he must have had her lipstick on his mouth, but he found he didn’t care in the slightest. 

“Oh, you’re good at that.” She left her hands in his hair, scratching lightly at his scalp, and if she kept at it, she’d have him rolling over and purring. “I’m going to have so much fun with you.”

“I don’t doubt it, ma’am.” He licked his lips, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Frannie.”

Dimly he realized he ought to be getting back to the store, but again, he was no mook. And only a mook would turn and walk out the door right then and there.

“Frannie?” She smiled up at him, one hand leaving his hair and sliding under his jacket to drag her fingernails down his spine. “Is that what you and your friend call me?”

He shivered under her touch and found himself rocking his hips gently against her, and it was a long moment before he realized she had asked him a question. “Friend?” He smiled down at her. “Which friend?”

“The only one I ever see you with,” she replied with a smile as she snaked her hand down to the seat of his pants. She brought her mouth close to his ear and whispered breathily. “The one from that night on the fire escape.”

Bucky froze at that, his hands halfway between her hips and her rear end. After a moment, he said, “I don’t know what you mean, ma’am.” He didn’t meet her gaze.

A dozen thoughts crashed through his head, each one worse than the last: Frannie could tell either one of their mothers. She could tell _others_ \- people in the neighborhood, Mr. Cicalese, Father Jeremiah, anyone. They could be kicked out of school, maybe, and if word of what happened that night got out-

“Yes, you do.” She went to work on his rear end with her hand, fondling and squeezing. “We were watching each other, weren’t we?” She smiled wickedly. “And from what I saw, I think you enjoyed what you saw every bit as much as I did.”

He let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding and relaxed against her. “You’re a real looker, Frannie.” His hands slid over smooth silk until he cupped her luscious backside in the palm of his hands. “And we couldn’t help but look at you.”

“I know,” she purred, arching back against his boldly questing hands. “And I couldn’t help but look at the two of you either.” She brought her lips to his ear again. “It wasn’t easy, holding back from giving in to temptation like you boys were doing. But now,” she sucked his earlobe into her mouth and flicked over it with her tongue before releasing it, “the both of us can do more than look.”

“We weren’t… it wasn’t...” he started to protest, but lost the thread of what he meant to say almost immediately. It was difficult to focus with Frannie’s hands working him over the way she was, and anyway, he didn’t want to think too hard about much.

Didn’t want her to think he was much too hard.

Which he was, and he couldn’t help but rock his hips steadily against her while kneading the firm globes of her ass. He thought of moving his hands forward and tugging her sash loose, of watching her robe slide to the floor to reveal her beautiful, curvaceous figure, and his mind went nearly blank with lust.

Soon, hopefully.

“Mmm.” She rolled her hips in a circular motion - up and in, then back and down - against his hardness. “Ready already, Freddie?” She paused, pulled back slightly, and looked him in the eyes. “Not yet. Otherwise it’ll be over too soon, and we don’t want that, do we?”

“No.” He just managed to not gasp the word, but it was a very near thing. “No, ma’am, we do not want that.”

“Good.” Frannie seemed to consider for a moment, then smiled again. “Of course, the best thing about boys your age is how quickly they’re ready again.” She trailed her fingertips down the front of his shirt, ending at the button of his pants. “I’m looking forward to that.”

A bead of sweat slid down Bucky’s neck from the back of his ear, disappearing under his collar. If there had been any space between their bodies, he might have let his gaze wander down to her fingertips, but instead he just looked at her with hungry eyes. 

“I’m looking forward to that too,” he said quietly.

In the meantime, he was too damn hot to keep wearing his jacket. Reluctantly he pulled his hands from Frannie’s ass and shrugged out of his jacket, tossing it on the armchair nearby. 

Frannie, meanwhile, was running her fingertips along the waistband of his pants and occasionally letting them stray lower. Low enough to brush against the bulge at the front of his pants. Low enough to bring a bigger smile to her face.

“The last time I saw this, you were too far away for me to appreciate it.” She undid the button of his pants without taking her eyes off of his. “That needs to change.”

“There was…” Bucky was panting now. He couldn’t help it. “There was a blanket. Not much… to see.”

He didn’t know what to do with his hands right then, slouched as he was against the front door with Frannie’s fingers hovering in a tantalizing place. He almost asked if she wanted to go to bed - the words were right on the tip of his tongue - but he thought better of it.

Wherever she wanted to take him, he would go. And if she wanted him against a door, well, there were worse places to make it with a dame.

Frannie eased down the zipper, still looking him dead square in the eyes, and smiled as she reached into the open front of his pants. 

“Mmmmm,” she breathed as her hand found him. “That’s what I was looking for.”

Her hand worked up and down his length once, twice, her thumb glossing over the tip and coming away with a slippery bead that she spread over his throbbing length. And then, still holding his eyes with hers and his hardness with her firm and sure hand, she whispered in a husky, low tone.

“Did any of your girls ever give you a French?”

He nearly unraveled right there at her question, nearly came undone at the way her hand stroked the length of him, the way her smouldering eyes refused to break his gaze. 

“No,” he said in a strangled voice, and decided he didn’t care at all how he sounded. Not right then. He shook his head, his eyes never leaving hers. “No, ma’am.”

“Well then,” she said, smiling, and sank slowly down into a crouch. She held his eyes for one more smoldering second, and then brought her lips to meet the very tip of him in a sensual kiss. A kiss that deepened and widened until she had taken him into her warm, wet mouth.

He wouldn’t last long at all.

\---

“Yeah, so…” Bucky flopped backwards on Steve’s bed and stared up at the ceiling. “I didn’t last long at all.”

Steve let out a long moan of pure, unfiltered, unadulterated envy. “You lucky bastard,” he said, shaking his head. “You lucky, lucky bastard.” 

The thought of Frannie had kept Steve company on plenty of lonely nights. Which, if he were going to be honest, meant all of his nights. He’d never once even come close to having female companionship of any kind in the evenings, much less the kind Bucky had just described. And Frannie, with her sultry good looks and her absentee husband, was perfect fodder for his imagination.

He flopped back on the bed next to Bucky. “I always thought those sorts of things only happened in the blue books.”

“Yeah, me too, pal.” Bucky smiled dopily at the ceiling. “But it happened.” 

“Yeah, so you said.” Steve swiveled his head to look over at Bucky. “But you didn’t say how it ended. I wasn’t there, so you’ve got to give me details.”

“Ah. Well.” Bucky cleared his throat, and his dopey smile turned into a smirk. “I can’t share all the naughty details, now can I?”

“You better.” Steve’s eyes narrowed. “You don’t just start a story like that and leave it hanging. You just don’t do that.”

“Oh yeah?” Bucky shifted over to look at Steve, the same stupid smirk still on his face. “Says who?”

“Says everyone!” Steve glared at Bucky. “Says basic common courtesy! Come on, Buck, I wouldn’t do that to you.”

“Well…” Bucky said, and Steve could tell he was enjoying the moment far too much. “There’s not much story left to tell, to be honest.”

“Aw, come on, Buck, just finish the story, will you?” Steve’s head sagged back as he looked up at the ceiling again. “I’m never going to get there myself, so I at least deserve to hear about you getting to do it.”

“C’mon, that’s not true.” Bucky’s smirk vanished instantly, to be very quickly replaced by a frown. “Just because it hasn’t happened yet doesn’t mean it isn’t going to happen. We just haven’t found you the right girl yet.”

“Don’t change the subject.” Steve’s head swiveled around again. He wasn’t about to sidetrack Bucky into another conversation about the mythical girl that was out there somewhere waiting for him. He was perfectly well aware that girls didn’t like him, perfectly well aware that he wouldn’t even know how to talk to them if they did, and acutely aware that he wanted to hear about Bucky’s fantastic good fortune with Frannie in all possible detail. If nothing else, he thought, it would give him something new to imagine at night.

“This isn’t about me and my woes. This is about you hitting the absolute double jackpot and not having the decency to give your best friend the juicy details.” He gestured impatiently. “Now talk!”

Bucky snorted. “Yes, sir.” After a moment, the smile drifted back onto his face. “But there’s not really much to tell. Like I said, I didn’t really last too long, which she seemed to find pretty rich. She kissed me and handed me my jacket and told me she looked forward to my next delivery.” He looked at Steve. “And that was that, buddy.”

Steve sighed. “Well.” He closed his eyes and let his imagination fill in the blanks. “I hope she orders something else before too long.”

\---

As luck would have it, Frannie did request more goods for delivery only six days later. 

Six interminable days.

Bucky thought about Frannie while in school, and while walking to and from school, and while sitting down to dinner with his mother and sister. It was a relief, then, when Mr. Cicalese sent him on another round of deliveries and he saw Frannie’s name on the list. 

He carefully wrapped her requested sundries - toothpaste and hair pins and cigarettes - in brown paper, tucked her bottle of Coca-Cola under one arm, and presented himself in front of her door. 

The door opened just as he was raising his hand to knock, and there was Frannie. She wore the same green silk robe as she had last time, though this time her gorgeous red hair was piled up on top of her head. She smiled at him by way of greeting, then reached out of the door to lay hold of his shirt with one red-nailed hand and actually dragged him inside.

“I’ve been waiting for this all week,” she breathed as she closed the door with her foot. “I’d have ordered sooner, but I didn’t want to keep you late on a school night.”

“I wouldn’t have minded,” he started to explain, but she pushed him against the door and then her mouth was on his, and the rest of his explanation fizzled away somewhere. Halfway between kisses, he managed a breathless, “Delivery from Mr. Cicalese’s.”

“Put it down over there,” she murmured into his mouth as she kissed him greedily, “and leave your jacket with it.” Her hands were already fiddling with the buttons.

He didn’t need to be told twice. Her lips still socketed to his, Frannie pulled him away from the door and across the parlor to the sofa, where she helped him out of his jacket and then sat down with her back against the arm of the sofa.

“Wear a tie next time,” she said, smiling mischievously at him as she reached up to pull him down to her again. “It’ll make you easier to lead around.”

“You don’t need a tie to lead me around,” he murmured against her lips, but all the same, he made a mental note to carry a tie in his jacket pocket at all times. 

“I said ‘easier’.” Frannie’s eyes glinted as she dragged those cherry-red nails of hers along the skin at the back of his neck, making him shiver deliciously. “Not ‘possible’.”

She kissed him hungrily, her tongue eagerly exploring the inside of his mouth, while her fingertips dug into the back and sides of his neck, his shoulders, winding into his hair and pulling him deeper into her kiss. Finally, though, after what seemed like a very long time, she broke the kiss and looked up at him.

“You really are very good at that,” she murmured breathlessly, and smiled up at him slyly. She crossed her legs slowly, sensually, letting the silk robe slide up her thighs as she did. “I think I could teach you to do wonderful things with such a talent.”

Her hands, fingers still entwined in his hair, began to guide his head slowly but insistently down from her lips. He kissed a line down past the curve of her chin, where she leaned her head luxuriously back and bared her throat to him, down past the hollow at the notch of her collarbones, down to where her luscious, tantalizing breasts swelled out against the smooth silk of her robe. And suddenly she was wriggling her shoulders back and forth, the silk sliding further away with each wriggle, until the robe had slid off of both her shoulders entirely.

For a moment, Bucky leaned back and just allowed himself to enjoy the view, before returning to her and kissing a soft, steady trail from one shoulder to the other. He had braced each of his hands against the cushions of the couch, careful not to go questing where he hadn’t been invited, but now he allowed the fingertips of one hand to drift over her bare shoulders and down further to her soft breasts.

“You’re beautiful,” he murmured against her warm mouth, cupping one silk-covered breast in the palm of his hand. She didn’t push his hand away; emboldened, he slid his hand to the knot of her sash. 

He warned himself to take it slow. To take it steady. To not be a dumb schoolkid in a rush, because that was a good way to be shown the door.

Trembling fingers hovering over her sash, he pulled back and looked into her gorgeous, green-shadowed eyes. “May I?” 

Frannie smiled up at him with smudgy lips and perfectly arched eyebrows. “I was wondering when you’d get that bright idea.” She settled back into the cushions and nodded. “You certainly may.”

With quivering fingers, and Frannie smiling encouragement at him, Bucky untied the sash, and then slowly, almost reverently, parted the robe until the silky fabric seemed to just slide off to each side of its own accord.

“Oh God, Frannie,” he breathed, staring down at her supple, naked body. His eyes slid from her pink-tipped breasts down to the soft curve of her stomach and then further down to the fluffy patch of hair, just as red as the hair piled on her head. “God, you’re beautiful.” 

She smiled at that, and it was a glorious smile. Not a mischievous, teasing one, but a real smile that lit up the room. “You’re so sweet.” She reached up a hand to gently cup his face. “A diamond in the rough. With a little polishing, you’ll be everything a girl could ever want. Now kiss me.” Her smile shifted again, taking on that air of mischief again. “Wherever you want to.”

He kissed her on the mouth, because it seemed like the polite thing to do before exploring the rest of her. From her mouth, he kissed a trail down her soft skin, over the swell of one breast, and then beautiful Frannie McDowell’s nipple was in Bucky’s mouth.

He could’ve come at that thought alone. His trousers were certainly tight enough. Oh, he had been with girls before, and Esther Schwartzbaum had let him get his hands under her sweater, but he hadn’t yet gone this far.

If he died right then, he thought as he swirled his tongue around her rapidly pebbling peak and was rewarded with a sigh and a clenched hand in his hair, he’d die a very satisfied man.

But Frannie didn’t let him savor the experience forever. The hand she’d clenched in his hair began to urge his head further down, and he kissed every part of her that he could reach. The heavy curved undersides of both breasts, the hint of her ribs beneath the smooth skin of her chest, the softness of her belly until it hollowed out into her navel, and then he felt the fluffiness of her hair tickling his chin.

“Don’t you dare stop,” came a husky, breathy whisper from Frannie. “Keep going.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he whispered, then planted a kiss on that red fluff of hair, and then further down and down. 

He had heard of paying lip service to a lady, of course. He had seen photographs and crude drawings in blue books, but none of them compared to actually kneeling on the carpet between Frannie McDowell’s creamy thighs and breathing in the heady scent of her womanhood. 

Who could say no to such a simple request from her?

His smile was one of both excitement and nerves. He trailed his fingertips lightly up and down the soft skin of her inner thighs. And then he dipped his tongue into her and had his first real taste of Frannie McDowell. 

Frannie moaned appreciatively, her fingers tightening into his hair, and raised her hips slightly. She began to rock her hips gently but insistently against his probing tongue, gasping occasionally in pleasure.

“Use your whole mouth,” she whispered. “Like you do when you kiss me. Explore.”

Of course Bucky obliged her. And under her patient guidance - a little more this way or that, the tip or the flat of his tongue, the importance of rhythm and pacing - she showed him how to make her writhe and gasp and moan, while she gripped her fingers tightly and ever more tightly in his hair.

Time seemed to slip away. He was enjoying himself too much, enjoying the taste of her and the feel of her and the sounds she made, breathy and gasping and increasingly, wantonly loud. 

Maybe he could have kept going forever, but suddenly she clenched both fists in his hair and her whole body tensed up for one interminable second before she let loose a drawn-out wail and bathed his face in a scalding hot flood of her. Then she collapsed nervelessly on the couch and lay there panting.

Bucky was panting too. “Wow,” he managed breathlessly. Then again, “wow.”

“You said it.” Frannie gave a satisfied sigh. “A little more practice and you’ll be the most highly sought-after boy in Brooklyn.” She smiled up at him. “So how soon do you think you’ll be ready for more practice?”

\---

“She actually said that?” Steve’s jaw hung open, his forkful of Automat pie suspended halfway between his plate and his mouth. “Holy Christmas, Bucky. You have got to be the luckiest son of a bitch that ever came from Red Hook.”

Bucky’s smile was almost smug. “She actually said that.” 

Steve shook his head in awestruck disbelief. Well, not complete disbelief, of course - he knew Bucky wouldn’t lie to him about something so monumental - but it was a pretty impossibly huge thing for him to pack into his head. Frannie McDowell, the object of both their affections for as long as they’d been aware of girls, had brought Bucky into her home twice now for amorous liaisons. And Bucky’d gotten to kiss her all over. It didn’t seem credible, and yet it had happened.

“So what did you say to her?”

Bucky grinned and forked a piece of blueberry pie into his mouth. “I said ‘yes, ma’am.’ What else can a guy say to that?”

Steve simply went on shaking his head. Bucky’s good luck was absolutely incredible. After all, who could have foreseen Frannie McDowell ordering a delivery from Mr. Cicalese at exactly the time Bucky was running the errands, and her being caught without tip money while her husband wasn’t in the apartment to interfere?

“Oh shit.” Steve’s face suddenly slackened. “Bucky, what about her husband?”

Bucky’s smile faltered suddenly. “I don’t know. I’m not ready to think about that yet.”

Steve’s expression grew more worried. “Well, we’d probably better think about it. The last thing you want is for him to come strolling in the door to find you getting cozy with his wife. He’s awful big.” He winced, then considered. “But he doesn’t look too bright. Maybe he won’t find out?”

“Now wouldn’t that be nice?” Bucky poked at the pie with his fork. “I don’t know. Maybe we’ll get real lucky and he’ll stay in China or wherever.”

“Or we could run away to Mexico.” Steve brightened considerably. “The Merchant Marines don’t go there; we’d be safe.” His expression clouded again. “Of course, we’d have to learn how to speak Spanish or we’d starve.”

Bucky rolled his eyes at that. “Yeah, okay, I’ll keep that in mind.” He set the fork aside and began stirring his coffee. “I don’t know, buddy. I just… I like her.”

“Well, who wouldn’t?” Steve smiled wistfully. “She’s an absolute knockout, and from everything you’ve been telling me, she’s pretty smart.” His smile broadened. “And hot to trot besides. Of course you like her. And she obviously likes you too.”

Bucky had always been a romantic, Steve thought with a smile. He’d never been one to string along a handful of girls at once the way some other guys did. He could have if he’d wanted to, but he just wasn’t that sort of guy. And the girls knew it, too, which was probably part of why they liked him so much.

What was more, Bucky never took it well when things ended with one of his steady girls. He moped around in a heartbroken stupor for days, sometimes even weeks, and behaved as though his world had ended. When Esther Schwartzbaum had broken it off with him, he’d actually retreated to his bed and pulled the covers over his head. Steve had had to sit there talking to a lump of blankets for half an hour before Bucky finally poked his head out and told Steve to make him a sandwich, which he’d eaten in bed. It hadn’t been much different when things had ended with Alice Macintyre. That was just the way Bucky was.

Steve shoveled the last bite of pie into his mouth. “So I wonder what she’s got in mind, then?”

\---

Over the next several weeks, Frannie made it repeatedly clear to Bucky exactly what she had in mind. Patiently and carefully, and always on the weekends, she taught him everything he’d ever need to know about pleasing a woman. 

“You know, I’m available on weeknights,” he said with a breathless sort of smile on one particularly ambitious Sunday afternoon. He rested his head on the damp apex of her thighs and looked up at her with something like adoration.

“You’re very sweet,” she said softly, just as breathlessly, and trailed her fingers down his cheek. “But weeknights are for schoolwork. Weekends are for a different sort of education.”

Her delivery requests were perfectly timed for when she knew Bucky was available, and if Mr. Cicalese had caught on to the fact that some deliveries were taking longer than others - as they increasingly seemed to be - he hadn’t yet said anything.

“A girl will never forget a boy who knows how to make her feel this good,” she purred to him one day as she lay there panting, his still-damp face against her breast and shoulder so that he could hear the thumping of her heart. She turned her head to look at him, smiling contentedly. “And you’ll never forget who taught you how to do it, will you?”

“Oh no.” He shook his head and gave her an exhausted, happy smile. “How could anyone forget this?”

She laughed softly. “You’re going to be the most sought-after boy in Brooklyn, you know.” She stroked his hair, idly twisting it around her fingers. “Every girl’s going to be clamoring for you, and for good reason.”

He gave her a languid sort of look. “Something to keep in mind, I guess.” A beat, then, “So I’m thinking… not that this isn’t aces…” He trailed away. Frowned.

Well, how did a fella bring up a lady’s lunker of a Merchant Marine husband when said fella was in bed with the lady?

Frannie looked at him expectantly. 

“Never mind.” He shook his head, smiled. “I’m just bumping gums here.”

The answer was: a guy didn’t. Not if he were smart.

Precisely five days later, another request was made for delivery: the usual assortment of sundries and two bottles of Coca-Cola. Bucky presented himself in front of Frannie’s apartment and knocked on the front door.

The door opened, and there stood Frannie’s lunker of a Merchant Marine husband, a hulking, six foot five nightmare of a man with arms bigger than oak trees. 

Mexico seemed real good right then.

Bucky remembered to speak. “Delivery from Mr. Cicalese’s.”

“Thanks, kid.” The nightmare took the package and the two bottles of soda and set them on the end table that Bucky knew was just beyond the door. “Name’s Jerry, by the way. Jerry McDowell.”

Bucky managed a dead sort of smile.

“And I know your name is Bucky,” Jerry continued. “Bucky Barnes, right?”

Well, that was it. No reason to stick around for death. “I’ll just be on my way,” Bucky started to say, but Jerry held a hand out.

“Hold on, kid.” Jerry grabbed one of the soda bottles and casually twisted the top off with one of his bear paw hands, then tossed the cap aside.

Bucky couldn’t help but watch.

“I just wanted to say thanks there, kid.” Jerry took a long pull on the soda. “Thanks for taking care of Fran while I was away. She gets real lonely, see? Needs the company of a nice fella while I’m at sea.”

Bucky looked at him with wide, stupid eyes, but words got away from him in that moment. He managed to open his mouth once or twice, probably doing a very good impression of a landed fish, but that was about it.

“She probably taught you a swell thing or two, right?” Jerry leaned against the doorframe. “Something useful to take to your next girl?”

Behind Jerry’s massive frame, Frannie appeared, wearing what looked to be a brand new silk robe of eye-popping yellow. She caught Bucky’s eye and flashed him a very cheerful smile. “You don’t worry about Jerry, sweetie. We’re all in this together. Everything is copacetic.”

Jerry drained off the last of the soda. “You ain’t a bad looking kid there, Bucky. You’ll find another girl soon enough.”

Well, if that wasn’t the final kiss off.

“Anyway, see you around, kid.” Behind Jerry, Frannie called out, “Bye, Bucky!” and then the door was shut and Bucky was left standing there in a state of stupid bewilderment.

\---

“You can’t be serious.” Steve gaped in utter astonishment.

He sat there on the edge of the bed in Bucky’s room later that day, the air stuffy in the cramped and windowless bedroom. Well, not exactly windowless; there was the window that opened into the kitchen and the window that opened into the air shaft, but opening either of them wouldn’t do any good. The rest of the apartment was every bit as stuffy as the bedroom, and opening the window to the air shaft would just let in the stench of the rotting garbage people dumped down there.

Bucky lay on his back, staring up at the ceiling after having recounted the whole thing. For his part, Steve couldn’t force the idea into his head; it was too big to fit. People didn’t do that; they didn’t live that way. It wasn’t possible.

Was it?

“You’re putting me on,” he insisted, then looked at Bucky in bewildered disbelief. “He _knew_?”

Bucky continued to stare at the ceiling. “He knew.” He opened and closed his mouth a few times, as if trying to find the right words. Then finally, “What does that even mean?”

Steve shook his head. If he ever got lucky enough to find a girl who actually liked him enough to want to get married, he couldn’t fathom leaving her alone for months at a time and actually giving her permission to mess around on him. Let alone meeting the guy she’d been making it with and giving him a smile and a handshake and essentially saying ‘well done’.

“People are weird, Buck,” he said, still shaking his head. “That’s what I think it means.”

Bucky sighed. “I don’t know.”

For a long moment, no one spoke.

Finally Bucky said, “I was used.” A strange expression crossed his face, something between a look of confusion and enlightenment. He sat up suddenly and looked at Steve. “Buddy… I was used.”

Steve looked over at Bucky, seeing the expression on his friend’s face and beginning to understand what it meant. “And you’re… happy about this?”

Bucky waggled his eyebrows. “I was used well.”

Steve rolled his eyes and threw up his hands. “You’re impossible. And you’re also the most undeservedly lucky son of a bitch I’ve ever even heard of, let alone met.” 

He shook his head again, his earlier envy creeping back in as Bucky’s acceptance of the bizarre situation became clear. Bucky had made it with Frannie McDowell, the most beautiful woman either of them had ever seen, and she’d taught him how to make any woman blow her wig - something Steve was pretty sure he’d never get to learn. Or use.

“So now you know how to give a girl a good time.” He chuckled and lay back on the bed. “Well, that makes one of us.”

Bucky smiled and flopped down next to him. “I know how to give anyone a good time, come to think of it. Frannie was very giving.”

“Anyone?” Steve turned his head to look at Bucky. The thought of that night on the fire escape sprang to his mind, and it suddenly struck him as odd that he hadn’t thought about it before. They’d been talking about Frannie, after all, and she’d figured pretty heavily into that night.

But she hadn’t been the one on Steve’s mind when he’d gone over the edge, had she? And now Bucky was saying that he knew how to give anyone a good time - not just a girl - and Steve’s head was going to strange places. Along with other parts of him.

“Do tell.” He smiled. “How giving?”

“All I’m saying is,” Bucky grinned, “if they had invited me in for a little ring-a-ding-ding, I would’ve known how to do a thing or two for either of them.”

“Jeez, imagine that.” Steve closed his eyes and pictured it, though Frannie’s husband was strangely absent from the scene in his imagination. Bucky was there instead, grinning and inviting him in as Frannie undid her robe. “Would you have gone for it?”

Bucky licked his lips and hesitated for what felt like a bit too long. “Nah,” he finally said. “Big guy like that? Not my type.”

Steve opened his eyes and rolled over on his side, facing Bucky. “Mine either.” He smiled, feeling his pants start to grow tight as his imagination worked overtime. “I’d prefer somebody who wouldn’t get carried away and accidentally snap me like a toothpick when things started getting good.”

Bucky made a sound that was halfway between a puff of laughter and a snort. “Who’d want to snap you like a toothpick?” He held up his hand before Steve could answer. “I mean, so long as you’re not running your mouth, who’d want to?”

“Jerk.” Steve scowled, then brightened as the perfect retort sprang to his mind. “But if I was running my mouth the way Frannie showed you how to run yours, that’d be even better.”

“You little perv,” Bucky said without heat. He reached out suddenly and brushed Steve’s floppy bangs out of his eyes. “Though that might be one way to get out of a scrape.”

Steve inclined his head very slightly forward, letting Bucky’s fingertips touch his forehead. “Depends on what kind of a scrape you’re talking about.”

“I… I don’t even know what we’re talking about anymore, pal.” Bucky’s fingertips skimmed Steve’s forehead and the shell of his ear before dropping away. Quietly he said, “We’ve got to find you a girl, Stevie.”

“Not gonna happen,” Steve replied a little too cheerfully. “Besides, you’re the one who needs a girl after what just happened.” He smiled back at Bucky, his own hand going up to brush an imaginary lock of hair off of Bucky’s forehead. “You need a chance to use those new skills of yours.”

“I’ll get my chance. Don’t you worry.” Bucky closed his eyes as Steve’s fingers made gentle contact. “But you…”

“Don’t worry about me, Bucky.” Steve shook his head and smiled. He knew where Bucky wanted to take this conversation, and he wasn’t interested in having the same old discussion. He knew girls didn’t like him, no matter how many times Bucky tried to set him up with dates or tell girls ‘only the good stuff’ about him. Things always ended the same way, and they always would, and no amount of hashing it out was ever going to change that.

Besides, he thought as his imagination showed him more pictures of Bucky and Frannie inviting him in for a romp, he was a lot more interested in doing something about the stiffness in his pants. Especially since thoughts of that night on the fire escape were beginning to intrude and make him even stiffer.

Steve continued to stroke Bucky’s hair, abandoning the pretense of clearing it off of his forehead. He’d continue because he wanted to, he decided, and not because he could explain it away. “You’re the one with something new to offer, not me.”

For a long moment, Bucky just lay there with his eyes closed. “You keep that doing that, and you’ll put me right out.” A smile drifted across his face. “Just like that, Stevie.”

“I don’t want to put you out,” Steve responded, though he didn’t stop stroking Bucky’s hair. “Pretty much the opposite.” He thought for a moment, then smiled. “So if that’s the way to put you to sleep, how do I make sure you stay awake?”

Bucky’s smile widened, but he still didn’t open his eyes. “You think you have nothing to offer? Look what you’re doing.” He reached out and traced a lazy line down the buttons of Steve’s shirt. “And you’re not even trying.”

Steve’s smile broadened as he felt Bucky’s fingertip drift down his shirt front. “I don’t think my talent’s anywhere near as great as yours, Buck.” He continued to stroke Bucky’s hair. “You can bring anyone off with your mouth. I can put you to sleep with my hand. I’d trade with you in a heartbeat.”

“I think you’re misremembering things a bit there, pal.” Bucky cracked an eye open, hesitated a moment, then, “Your hand didn’t put me to sleep last time.”

“Now who’s the perv?” Steve laughed, a bit more breathily, but didn’t stop stroking Bucky’s hair. He hesitated, then recklessly plunged ahead. “Maybe if I had your talent, it wouldn’t have had to be my hand.”

“You have talent, Stevie,” Bucky murmured, and his hand drifted gently, slowly, over the front of Steve’s trousers before dropping away. “Especially in your hands. You just need practice in other places is all.”

Steve sucked in a breath, elated, as Bucky’s hand brushed against the stiffness in his crotch. His hand moved from Bucky’s hair to the back of his neck, still stroking, and he brought his other hand up to rest it on Bucky’s hip. “So how do I get that practice? Who’s going to teach me?”

Bucky sucked in his breath and stilled for a moment. “Well,” he said softly, bringing his hand back up and retracing the line down Steve’s shirt, “you could always ask Frannie and Jerry for a few lessons.”

“Toothpick,” Steve replied as he arched into Bucky’s hand. He scratched gently at the back of Bucky’s neck with his fingernails and began running his other hand lightly up and down Bucky’s side, from his hip to his ribs and back again. “Remember?”

Bucky shivered under Steve’s touch. “I don’t mind, Stevie,” he said a bit breathlessly. “I’m sure they don’t mind. And I…” A puff of laughter escaped him. “I don’t even know what I’m trying to say anymore.” 

“So what else is new?” Steve laughed softly and let his hand drift further around to Bucky’s front, where it brushed against Bucky’s crotch every time it passed. “Guess your mouth’s just no good for talking.”

Another sharp intake of breath. “You were always the talker. And I’m just…” He hooked a finger into the waistband of Steve’s trousers. “I…”

Steve gasped as Bucky’s finger slipped under his waistband. Maybe if he moved his hips up just a little further, Bucky’s fingertip would find the stiffness in his pants? It was worth a try.

“You’re the one who can back up all the talking I do.” His voice was breathy, ragged, as he arched his hips upward and felt the tip of Bucky’s finger meet the tip of his cock through the thin cotton of his shorts. And that contact dragged another gasp out of him.

Bucky froze, looking at Steve with wide, confused eyes. “What are we doing, Stevie?” he whispered. “No Frannie McDowell here this time. What are we doing?”

Steve froze, suddenly worried. Had he gone too far? Had it been too fast? What, really, were they doing? Bucky was right; they couldn’t make the excuse that they were helping each other out. Not this time. And what about the fact that he’d been thinking of Bucky, not Frannie, when he’d come like a fire hose that night on the fire escape? What was the excuse for that?

“Same thing as last time,” he found himself saying as he looked Bucky in the eyes. His hand remained on Bucky’s hip, just brushing against the bulge he could feel in Bucky’s pants. And Bucky hadn’t pulled his hand back either. “We’re giving each other what we need.”

Bucky was silent for a long moment. Too long, and Steve felt his heart sink. He wondered if he should take his hand away, or whether that would even do any good at this point. Whether things had gone too far, and there would be no repairing it.

And then, finally, Bucky whispered, “And what do you need, Stevie?”

Bucky still hadn’t taken his hand away, Steve realized. And neither of their erections seemed to have gone down any. 

So all wasn’t lost. Time for one more daring move.

“Same thing I needed that night on the fire escape,” he breathed as he let his hand drift slowly, hesitantly, down to the front of Bucky’s pants, where he felt that wonderful bulge. He looked Bucky in the eyes and gave a small, nervous smile. “What about you, Buck?”

“I don’t know.” Bucky said the words so quietly, Steve had to strain to hear him. “Frannie said… she said she saw us that night. She said she liked it.” He bit his lip. “No one else should know, but...” He dragged his finger along the waistband of Steve’s trousers, managing to undo the button. “I don’t… I don’t think it was wrong.”

Steve’s eyes went wide with amazement. Frannie had watched them? Not only watched them, but enjoyed what she’d seen? He had to shake his head. Watching teenage boys jerk each other off on the fire escape, then bringing one of them home to make it with when her husband knew it all along… Frannie was one wild woman.

He found himself getting harder than ever as he contemplated it, and he arched against Bucky’s hand almost unconsciously as Bucky began to undo his trousers. But what had gotten him hard to begin with, and what kept him hard now, was the thought of what he and Bucky had done that night, and the thought that it might happen again.

“It wasn’t wrong, Buck,” he whispered as he began to massage Bucky’s cock through his trousers. “I liked it.”

A moan slipped out of Bucky’s mouth and his hand stilled over Steve’s trousers. His eyelids fluttered closed and he began to move his hips slowly in time with Steve’s ministrations. Steve, meanwhile, followed Bucky’s lead and began to move his own hips against Bucky’s hand.

“I liked it,” he repeated. “I came harder than I think I ever did before.”

Bucky’s laughter was more of a breathless puff of a sound. “You came everywhere. If you’re not careful, you might do that again now.”

Steve’s laughter matched Bucky’s. “You did too, you know.”

He remembered Bucky’s cum spurting everywhere. All over his hand in particular, hot and thick and clinging to his skin. He remembered how good it felt, how good it had smelled. And he felt his cock throb against Bucky’s hand when the thought came to him that he wished he knew how it had tasted.

“And I think I’d like you to do it again.”

Bucky opened his eyes and looked at Steve for a long, thoughtful moment. Finally he said, “I told you, Frannie showed me a trick or two. And I…” Again he bit his lip. “I could show you. If you want.”

“Yeah.” The word was out of his mouth almost before he knew it. The thought of it alone nearly made him come in his pants, but he managed to hold back. He nodded breathlessly, smiling, his hand still on Bucky’s cock. “Yeah, I do. I want that.”

Another long look, and then Bucky hooked his finger into the collar of Steve’s shirt and pulled them both up into a sitting position. “Come here.” He slid backwards off the bed until he was kneeling in front of it. Steve scooted forward, already imagining how things would unfold, and sat on the edge of the bed with one leg to either side of Bucky’s kneeling body.

“So…” Bucky rested his hands on Steve’s thighs and smiled up at him. “Get the blanket.” With one hand, he gestured to the extra floral-patterned chenille blanket folded at the end of Bucky’s bed. “And you can…” He smiled nervously. Licked his lips. “You can pretend I’m whoever you like, see?”

Steve held Bucky’s eyes for a second, knowing that if he did try to imagine Frannie, the illusion wouldn’t last long. Blanket or otherwise, he was going to find himself imagining Bucky by the end. Bucky, with Steve’s cock in his mouth. 

He couldn’t help the groan that slipped out at that thought, but he knew by the look on Bucky’s face that he needed to agree to the pretense. Last time, they had been helping each other out. This time, Steve could pretend Bucky was whoever he wanted him to be. That was all.

“All right,” he whispered as he reached for the blanket. Unfolded, it covered Steve’s lap and Bucky’s crouching body all the way down to the floor. Steve smiled and closed his eyes. “I’m ready.”

“I hope so.” Bucky’s voice was muffled under the blanket, but Steve could feel Bucky’s fingers unzipping and spreading his fly open. A moment passed - hesitation, maybe? - and then Bucky gently pressed his mouth against the cotton of Steve’s shorts. Behind his closed eyes, Steve’s imagination tried to conjure up an image of Frannie but quickly replaced her with Bucky. He wished he could see what it looked like to have Bucky’s lips pressed to the tip of his cock through his shorts - he couldn’t stifle a groan at the thought, his cock twitching at the image as well as the sensation - but his imagination would have to do for the time being.

Bucky placed gentle kisses down the length of Steve’s cock as Steve held his breath in anticipation. The shorts dulled the sensation a bit, but maybe that was a good thing for the moment. He didn’t want to shoot all over Bucky’s face at the slightest provocation, after all.

But then he felt Bucky’s fingers slide through the opening in his shorts, and then his cock was in Bucky’s warm hands, and Bucky placed a kiss right on the very tip of him.

“Oh God.” Steve bit his lip to keep himself in check. It was really happening, wasn’t it? Months after they’d held each other’s cocks in their hands and tugged each other to a spurting finish out on the fire escape, they were going to take it a step further. Bucky’s lips were on him. His pants were down and his shorts were open and Bucky’s hands were wrapped around his shaft and Bucky’s lips were against the head of his cock and it was almost too much to take.

Bucky swirled his tongue around the head, dragging a shaking moan out of Steve. He gripped the edges of the mattress so tightly, his knuckles turned white with exhilaration. 

“Is it okay?” Bucky whispered, his fingers slowly working up and down the length of him. “Do you like it?”

Steve managed a strangled, “Oh God, yes,” and in response, Bucky took all of him into his warm, wet mouth. 

“Jesus…!” Steve’s hands clenched on the mattress tightly enough to make his fingertips go numb. It was like nothing he’d ever felt before, the sensation of someone engulfing his cock in their mouth entirely, and the fact that it was Bucky made everything so much more exciting. Those were Bucky’s lips he could feel sliding down the length of him all the way to his balls. That was Bucky’s tongue lapping at the underside of his shaft. And that was Bucky’s wet, sucking mouth trying to drag him over the edge.

He unclenched the fingers of his right hand from the mattress and slowly, hesitantly, slid them under the blanket until he found Bucky’s head. And then, just as slowly, he threaded his fingers into Bucky’s hair and pressed his hand against Bucky’s head. Bucky’s head, which was bobbing up and down under the blanket, and which Steve found himself arching his hips up to meet as it came down, sliding all of his cock into Bucky’s eagerly sucking mouth.

He had to do it. He couldn’t have said why, but he had to let his eyes see what his imagination was showing him. And so, with his left hand - that hand that wasn’t pushing Bucky’s head gently down onto his throbbing cock, he tugged the chenille blanket aside. And there it was for him to see: Bucky, his best friend in all the world, bobbing up and down on his cock, sucking and licking for all he was worth.

Bucky met his eyes.

“Oh God, Buck…!”

Steve couldn’t hold back any longer. It felt as if he was swelling up to burst, the whole middle of him boiling over and exploding out of him through his cock, blast after blast after blast of liquid heat that felt so incredibly good coming out into Bucky’s mouth. And he gripped Bucky’s hair as he arched his hips up off the bed, actually fucking Bucky’s mouth, and that was enough to drive him into delirium.

Bucky gagged suddenly and spat out a mouthful of jism onto Steve’s lap, more of it spilling down the front of Bucky’s shirt and onto Steve’s trousers and even the blanket. 

“Good God, Stevie.” Bucky fell back against the bed, red faced and sticky, his hair a tangled mess of curls and sweat. Somehow he was laughing anyway. “Good God, you come like a waterfall.” He wiped his mouth, his fingers gluey with jism. He wiped his shirt, and only came away with more of the stuff, which made him laugh with breathless exhilaration. 

“Sorry, Buck,” Steve gasped as he sagged back, his cock still twitching and leaking a few last rivulets of jism down onto his lap. He laughed shakily, the wonderful enormity of what had just happened buoying him up and making him feel like he’d been pumped full of something lighter than air. “It’s just sort of always been that way, I guess.”

“You’re a little guy.” Bucky shook his head, the smile never leaving his face. “The hell do you get all that from?”

Steve laughed and shrugged. “I haven’t come in a while. I guess I must have just been saving it up.”

Bucky looked at him for a long moment, his smile warm and familiar, before abruptly climbing to his feet. “I’m a mess.” He touched his hair and his shirt in turn. “Oh God, I’m a mess.” Quickly he shrugged out of his suspenders, then unbuttoned his shirt and crumpled it into a ball, leaving him in his trousers and an undershirt. 

“Yeah.” Steve laughed and looked down at himself, seeing the puddles of jism he’d gotten on his pants and the blanket. “I’m kind of a mess too. We should get cleaned up.”

“On it,” Bucky said, heading into the kitchen. Steve followed close behind, and a second later, Bucky stood at the sink, splashing cold water onto his face and hair. “I’m going to need a bath to really clean up, but this’ll have to do for now.”

Steve stood there a moment, looking at Bucky’s back as he washed. Bucky had just done something incredible for him, something he’d never have thought to do before. And Steve wanted to do something for him in return.

Couldn’t it be the same thing?

He felt his heart jump at the thought of it. Hadn’t he been thinking just before that he’d liked the feel and the smell of Bucky’s jism, and that he wanted to know what it tasted like? Would there ever be a better opportunity?

He came up behind Bucky and dropped into a crouch, sliding around to Bucky’s front and putting his back against the sink cabinet. His face was at the perfect height, and as he began to undo Bucky’s pants, he felt his hands quivering and his heart thudding in his chest. 

Bucky froze, mid-hand wash, and then looked down at Steve with questioning eyes. “Stevie?” he said very quietly. “What are you doing?”

“Returning the favor,” Steve whispered as he looked back up at Bucky and smiled a nervous smile. “And trying something out.”

“You don’t…” Bucky swallowed visibly. “You don’t have to.” And yet, he didn’t move. Not to push Steve away, not even to shut the faucet off. 

“I know,” Steve breathed. “I want to.”

He was really going to do this. 

He tugged Bucky’s zipper down and reached into his open pants, his fingers hunting for the opening at the front of Bucky’s shorts and sliding inside, searching for Bucky’s cock.

It had gone soft, he found as his fingers touched it, but he didn’t mind. It would be a thrill to take it into his mouth when it was soft and feel it swelling and thickening as he went to work on it. God, thinking about it was bringing him back to hardness. And he all but licked his lips in anticipation as he lifted Bucky’s cock in his hand and fed it into his open mouth.

\---

“Stevie!” Bucky managed to choke out, before his breath caught in his throat, and all he could do was grip the sides of the sink in helpless anticipation. 

The water continued to flow from the faucet, and Steve was on his knees before him, his warm, wet mouth wrapped around Bucky’s cock, and it was too much to even reach out and turn the tap off. 

He closed his eyes and bent his head as Steve hungrily sucked him into his mouth. Steve’s tongue immediately started in on him, exploring every part it could reach, especially where his foreskin pulled back from the head of his cock.

Bucky nearly came at that alone.

For a second, he thought he’d do as Steve had done and wrap his fingers in Steve’s hair. But the thought of it was too much, nearly pushing him over the edge, and so all he could do was hold onto the sink while Steve continued to work him over as he pleased.

“Stevie,” he murmured, damp bangs hanging off his brow and rivulets of sweat running down the sides of his neck. “Oh God, Stevie.”

Steve continued to suckle greedily at Bucky’s cock as it rapidly swelled in his mouth. He drew his head back until only the very tip was between his lips, then plunged forward until his nose met Bucky’s pubic hair and Bucky’s balls rested against his chin. His tongue licked eagerly at the underside of Bucky’s shaft, lapping at the underside of the head to explore the most sensitive parts of Bucky’s cock. And all the while, he was making some very appreciative noises.

Bucky wasn’t going to last long at all.

He knees shook and his grip felt unsteady against the sink. “Stevie, I’m…” he started to say, but then Steve pulled back for a moment before swallowing Bucky whole again, and Bucky’s words spun away somewhere in a haze of sweat-soaked need.

“Stevie…” he moaned, because he couldn’t seem to remember how to say anything else.

He risked cracking open his eyes, and there was Steve, blonde tufts of hair at Bucky’s waist, head bobbing gently back and forth in a torturous, delicious rhythm. His eyes were closed too, as if what he were doing was so wonderful, he needed to savor the experience absolutely.

“Stevie…” Bucky breathed. “Stevie, I’m not… I’m…”

Steve pulled his head back and gasped, looking back up at Bucky with a wild look in his eyes and a huge smile on his face. “Come, Bucky,” he panted. “Come in my mouth.” And then he opened his mouth and sucked the entire length of Bucky’s cock into his mouth, his tongue working harder than ever, and he showed no signs of pulling back.

Bucky came so hard, he thought the sink might crack under his grip. He came in hot, desperate bursts, one after another after another, with a cry of “Stevie!” on his lips before he grit his teeth and nearly crumpled over, shaking and messy and spent. His chest heaved and the sweat ran rivulets down his scalp, and it was a long time before he could say more than a name.

“Stevie…” he panted nervelessly. “Stevie…”

Steve sat back on his heels, breathing hard through his nose, and swallowed once, twice. Licked his lips afterwards and, smiling, swallowed a third time.

“Wow,” he breathed, smiling and laughing shakily. “Tastes good.”

Bucky made a sound that was halfway between a snort and a chuckle. He looked down at Steve with a wobbly sort of smile and pushed one shaky hand through Steve’s hair before finally reaching out and closing the tap. Then he just lay limp over the sink for a long moment.

“You took it all?” he finally said.

“Every bit,” Steve replied with what sounded like pride in his voice and what had to have been pride on his smug face. “Every last drop.”

“Wow…” Bucky murmured, and then fell into comfortable, exhausted silence. After a moment or two, he glanced at the clock on the wall. “Okay, well…” He straightened up and opened the tap again. “The cavalry is coming. Time to get cleaned up. You better get some of that jism off your pants.”

For the next few minutes, they washed in silence. 

Bucky wondered if Steve would insist on having another talk. If they would have to decide what it all had meant, and if it were different from that night on the fire escape. If it had progressed past simply “helping each other out.”

Maybe.

Bucky didn’t know.

What he did know, however, was that it had felt good. And that it hadn’t felt wrong, even if it were probably supposed to feel wrong. But as for what it had progressed past…

Well, where could they even go next?

He didn’t know.

His sixteen year old sister Becca walked in right as Bucky was buttoning his shirt at the sink. She was carrying a cloth grocery bag that appeared to be filled with potatoes and carrots, and she looked between Bucky and Steve, who was sitting at the kitchen table, then raised an eyebrow.

“You have a date? Found a new girl?” She looked at Bucky critically. “I was going to make soup with the leftover ham. You should’ve said something.”

“Nah, no date.” Bucky smoothed his hair back. “Just been working all day.”

“Okay. Fine.” She dropped the grocery bag on the table with a ‘thunk’. “Get gone then. I need the space.” She glanced at Steve again. “Hey, Steve. You staying for dinner?”

“Not that I know of,” Steve replied, then turned to Bucky. “Want to walk over to my place then?”

Bucky nodded and grabbed his jacket, and they headed down the stairs and out to the street without saying another word. In fact, it wasn’t until they were a few buildings down the street that Steve spoke.

“So.” He looked over at Bucky and smiled. “We got clean away with it again.”

Bucky snorted. “Wouldn’t be surprised if Frannie and good old Jerry were looking in through the kitchen window with a telescope.”

Steve’s smile became a grin. “Think they’d have enjoyed it as much as we did?”

“Jesus, Steve.” Bucky glanced up and down the street, but everybody seemed to be going about their business. Still, he didn’t say another word until they were safely inside Steve’s house.

Only he didn’t know what to say. “So…” He bit his lip. “So you know you’re just going to follow me back home and eat that soup. I don’t know why you said otherwise.”

“Because I thought we should talk.” Steve looked uncertainly over at Bucky. “You know, about what happened.” He hesitated, then blurted out “You don’t regret it, do you? Because I don’t.”

“No,” Bucky said immediately, and realized that he meant it. Which was a relief; he couldn’t bear the idea of seeing Steve’s face fall and knowing he had been the one to hurt him.

The thought made him feel faintly ill.

“No, I don’t regret it.”

He looked at Steve, and he couldn’t help himself. He ran a hand through Steve’s hair and then trailed his fingers down the side of his cheek before letting his hand drop away.

“I don’t know what it means,” he said quietly. “But I don’t regret it.”

The relief was clear on Steve’s face, and he seemed to sag with the intensity of the sigh he heaved. “Oh good.” He smiled, a bit unsteadily. “Good. I don’t know what I would have done if you’d regretted it.” The smile dropped away. “But I don’t know what it means either. All I know is that I wanted to do it, and I didn’t want to pretend it wasn’t you.”

The image of Steve kneeling down at the sink flitted through Bucky’s head. No, Steve hadn’t been pretending at all, and Bucky… 

He had liked it that way. 

Bucky didn’t know how to reply to that though. Instead he said, “Should we pick up some bread on our way back over? It’ll taste good with the ham.”

Steve looked at Bucky for a long moment, a strange sort of smile on his face, and then lunged suddenly forward and hugged him tightly. “It’s just part of being you and me, isn’t it, Buck?” he murmured into Bucky’s shoulder. “Just one more thing the two of us do, right?”

Bucky hooked his chin over Steve’s shoulder, wrapping his arms around his wiry body and leaning into the hug. “I don’t know” he said quietly. He didn’t pull away.

“Me neither,” Steve responded, his voice muffled as he continued to press his face against Bucky’s shoulder. “I liked it, though. I liked it today, and I liked it on the fire escape…” He took a deep breath and burrowed deeper into Bucky’s shoulder. “And I’d like it again.”

“Maybe,” Bucky murmured, but still didn’t pull away. For such a little guy, Steve could sure squeeze hard when he wanted to. It was nice. 

“Love you, Buck.” Steve blurted it out suddenly and nuzzled his face against Bucky’s shoulder.

Bucky closed his eyes, breathing in the warm, familiar scent of Steve, arms wrapped tightly around his narrow frame, and with no idea of how to proceed.

Words had never been easy for him.

“Yeah,” he finally said, fingers skating up the length of Steve’s back and finding home in his hair. “You’re not bad yourself.” A slow smile drifted across his face.

Maybe he could find the words one day. Maybe soon. 

And for a long moment, neither of them moved. It was Steve, finally, who let go of the hug and stepped back.

“Come on,” he said with a smile. “I think I might be hungry for that soup after all.”

**Author's Note:**

> Comments, questions, and feedback are all warmly welcomed and encouraged!


End file.
